


The New (Old) Deal

by Leni



Series: The New (Old) Deal [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Reality, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-02 15:19:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2816966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni/pseuds/Leni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shots set in a world where Regina let Lacey be part of Storybrooke from the start. </p><p>1. The New (Old) Deal. (where Rumpelstiltskin gets his maid back)<br/>2. <i>call it the edge of sanity</i>. (where Lacey has always noticed Mr. Gold)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The New (Old) Deal

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Classics Lover at [Comment Fic](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/531515.html?thread=76107579#t76107579). Prompt: **"I don't have any money... how else can I barter for this? *wink*"**

Like the pebble in the proverbial lake, Emma Swan's presence has caused several ripples during her stay in Storybrooke: the wolf-girl and her grandmother snap less at each other, the cricket is growing a conscience again, the sleeping shepherd is awake once more, and his true-love bride is rediscovering her backbone,,,

...and Lacey French lingers by the pawnshop window display longer and longer every day.

(His inner lip was raw from weeks of holding himself from speaking to her, and there are still half-moon scars in his palms from all the times he's reminded himself not to reach for the florist's daughter.)

Rumpelstiltskin tried not to stare, the first time he caught sight of her standing outside the shop.

She'd been looking at what was nothing but a vintage cutlery set in this world, and he'd forced himself not to close his eyes and remember her voice asking what was so scary about a few spoons and forks that it deserved a place in his great room rather than his kitchen.

How she'd laughed when he'd snapped his fingers, spoken a word, and made the silver dance... and then she'd paled when she understood the sharp knives would also obey their master's every command.

Lacey French just looked at them wistfully, and then shook her head and continued on her way.

That same night Rumpelstiltskin took down every artifact that had been in the common rooms of the Dark Castle, the same his maid had dusted a hundred times before he lost her. He replaced them with the objects that had made their way to the shop after the curse: the shepherd's mill, the dwarf's cup, half a dozen other odds and ends that had never been seen by Belle...

And Lacey French broke into a smile when she noticed the change and stopped to peer at each object.

He sneered at his own foolishness - of course she'd still be as curious as ever! - and retreated into the backroom so he didn't have to see her across the glass.

It got better, as the weeks passed. Rumpelstiltskin now manages to ignore her - or give the best impression of it, anyway; he's a _superb_ actor, don't you know? The curse is a perfect mask, and he just has to slip it on when she's nearby. Mr. Gold never looked twice at the French girl, and should that change just because the woman Rumpelstiltskin has loved and mourned is now risen from the grave?

Not that he ever _saw_ that grave.

But he'll take that up with Regina as soon as it's safe to reveal himself to her. He must remember to congratulate his student for such an excellent strike - even her mother didn't cut so deeply - before he curses her with something nasty. And after he's done with her, Regina better remember to be _thankful_ for his mercy. She's lucky the girl isn't harmed, that she is no more miserable than the others under the curse.

He would hate to have to kill Regina when she's been so useful.

But for now, he grants her the amusement of parading the smirking version of his love before him, and have him - have _Gold_ , rather, but she mustn't yet know there's a difference - be completely oblivious.

He can be magnanimous, after all, when he knows that soon the curse will break.

He will see Belle again, perhaps be allowed to apologize for the manner of their parting. He'll go for Bae, at last.

Regina will have nothing but the hatred of the people.

And who'll be laughing last, eh?

And it _will_ be soon. Months, perhaps weeks! He's just given the Savior a bit of a push in the right direction. He's given her authority - not enough to rival Regina's, not even if this were a normal town and they were nothing but Mayor and Sheriff - but her word will have weight, the better to nudge sleepy minds into awakening. He lost what little goodwill Gold had in town, after Emma made it known who set that fire, but it was worth it. He doesn't care for Storybrooke's appreciation, either way; can't wait for the day he leaves this town behind and sets out to find his son.

(And never sees Belle again. But better to leave her behind than to believe her dead, isn't it? It's not as if the girl will say yes if he asks for her company on the search for Baelfire, will she? She said her goodbyes three decades and a world ago. He must remember that,)

Yes. Soon he will see Baelfire again, and...

The bell announces a new customer.

Twenty-eight years, and he's never had as much business as in the last weeks. It's another sign of the curse weakening. Emma Swan is meeting more people, and her presence will untangle a bit of their true selves. Oh, little things only; the details Regina was too lazy to snuff down properly. The memories brought by a cherished heirloom, the liking of a favorite figurine; little by little, people are drawn to all the things that Mr. Gold has in his pawnshop and yet were never given in a deal to Rumpelstiltskin (not that he doesn't plan to set a fair price for them; he's never been given to charity and they won't expect it from him.)

Rumpelstiltskin wishes he had stayed at home today, when he catches sight of Lacey French in the middle of his store. She looks... different. Her tighter clothes, the extra inches she's gained by her choice of footwear, the absence of that indulgent smile he'd grown used to, on those last months in his castle...

"At last!" Lacey French says, unsurprised by his presence. Unlike the times he'd made her screech in shock, by appearing where she least expected him, now the tip-tap of the cane announces his coming. "How much for that one?" she demands, her profile to him as she stands looking into the jewelry display to the right of the store, a few feet from the door. Her very posture announces that she won't be bothering to waste breath on a polite greeting. "And I want the real price, not the blown-up version."

He feels Gold's sneer at her insolence tug at his lips, and gladly gives into it. It's better than whichever expression will cross his face if he allows himself to _think_. "Nothing you can afford, missy. Unless the flower business has much improved... In which case I suggest you tell your father not to be late with another payment." He leans on his cane, less his feet drag him closer to her. "I may not be as understanding as I've been in the past."

Lacey sniffs, though her shoulders stiffen. "I've got nothing to do with Papa's business. We both agree it's for the best," she says airily, as if she means every word. (Rumpelstiltskin knows better; he remembers the same tone when she told him life with him was adventure enough. But Gold wouldn't be listening that closely) "I have no head for numbers," she continues, reaching up a hand to play with her dangling, over-sized earring, "...and no patience to deal with customers, anyway."

Once, this girl had the patience to draw kindness out of an old monster.

Once, her father trusted her counsel in the war room. Now Moe French won't let her close to the failing business he owns, not even when he's incapable to keep it afloat without Gold's support and could use whatever help he could get. Foreclosure and repossession may well be worse nightmares than ogres, as Sir Maurice will soon discover unless he treats his daughter better.... _No_. Mr. Gold doesn't care about Moe French's personal life, and he certainly wouldn't let the man's behavior to Lacey affect how he conducts their business.

"The wisest decision Moe has made to date." he says, hating himself for the small wince his words cause. "Best to keep away the undesirables from one's business; blood or not."

She rallies quickly, hurt turning into annoyance turning into bravery. At least Regina didn't kill that in her. "You have an opinion on parenting methods? I'm shocked!" She continues, unaware that her blind shot has struck truly, "Stick to what you know best, Mr. Gold. Antiques and loans..." She turns to him, eyebrow arched. "Oh, and arson, isn't it?"

Rumpelstiltskin leans even harder on his cane when all he wants is to stumble back in shock at how complete disdain changes her features. Even the day she left, even as she was so furious at him... Even then, she had... she had _cared_.

But all of Storybrooke knows that Lacey French only cares for a good time at the Rabbit Hole.

He makes his features harden into his worst glower, and trusts his voice enough for a gritted out, "That's enough. You can leave now, Miss French."

Here he is, throwing her out again.

It goes as well as the last time...

Lacey rolls her eyes and taps her foot against the floor in annoyance. Not for the first time, Rumpelstiltskin wonders at her newfound balance. She does better in the monstrosities she wears in this world than in her sensible shoes back in the Enchanted Forest.

"Come on, Gold." There's not a note of pleading in her voice, for all she's just insulted the most powerful man in Storybrooke. "I said nothing the whole town isn't whispering behind your back. I bet you haven't had much luck with business since the election, have you?" She's wrong, of course. Since Emma spoke to the crowd, since they _chose_ her into a community leading role, everybody is that little bit more awake. They tell themselves they've come to take a peek at the town monster, but they're really looking for whichever trinket belongs to them. But Lacey doesn't know any of this, even as she is just as drawn as the rest. "You're lucky you've got me as a customer and you know it. I'm not leaving until we've got a deal."

He never _quite_ manages to get rid of her when he wants to, does he? It must always be done on her terms.

"What is it you want, girl?" he gruffs out.

Of course, Rumpelstiltskin already knows which piece has caught her interest.

Belle never explained what the little pearl necklace meant for her, back home; but he can't remember ever seeing her without it until he woke up in Storybrooke and met Lacey French.

He could have kept it for himself. He did consider putting it next to his other true treasures. But Belle promised him an empty castle and a chipped cup, nothing more. He's kept those, even in this world. She'd despise him even more if he kept another memento of her without her permission.

He waits until she points it out and smirks. "Three hundred and fifty," he tells her.

Blue eyes narrow. "You're joking."

By the end, Belle could tell when he was in earnest and when he was only teasing. Lacey French sees only a man trying to give her a hard time to get back at her. "Take it or leave it, dearie."

"I don't have that kind of money on me," she admits, glaring at him, "and I wouldn't throw it on a little thing like this anyway."

But she would, Rumpelstiltskin knows. She'd pay double of what he's asked, and whatever price he demanded. Because that necklace is a piece of her life, for all the curse has placed it under his possession (but possession is nine tenths of the law, they say in these parts, and who'd dare cheat the Dark One of his portion?)

"Then there's no deal," he says, turning away.

He marvels at his ability to tear his eyes from her, when she stands this close. But Lacey French is not Belle of Avonlea, not anymore than Mr. Gold could have been Rumpelstiltskin.

Telling that to himself makes it easier to start his way to the backroom.

"Wait!"

He sinks the nails of his left hand into his palm yet again. Mr. Gold would ignore her; he had no time for penniless girls. But Rumpelstiltskin has dreamed for years to hear that voice call for him, and for all those years he's believed her forever lost! What's one more minute, when the curse will hold for weeks yet? Why can't he talk to Lacey, when soon Lacey will be gone and Belle will remember everything? He can't love the one and doesn't deserve the other - and he will lose both of them, in the end.

His lips are set in a snarl of frustration when he turns back toward the woman who is _not_ his True Love.

(But close enough, perhaps?)

Showing her first sensible thought since he's met her, Lacey steps back.

Rumpelstiltskin feels his heart break some more. But before he can decide whether he can live with seeing the fear - fear of him - in Belle's face, and what he can do to make it go away, Lacey has crossed her arms over her chest and made it look as if her retreat was calculated.

"Come on," she sighs. "Be reasonable."

Her voice sweetens, and of course it's only Lacey trying to beguile him into dropping his price, but still he hears the same words and tone from when his maid would wheedle for him to leave his work and take a meal with her. 'Be reasonable,' Belle would say, her hand tugging on his sleeve playfully, as if touching the Dark One was no cause for alarm, 'even the Spinner must eat sometimes, mustn't he? How else will you have the strength to spin all that straw into gold!'

But now, a world away, Lacey French isn't interested in his well-being - much less his company. It's only the necklace she wants.

"Three hundred and... No way. There aren't enough guys willing to bet over a twenty for a game of pool; and a girl has to buy her own drinks, these days. It'd take me forever, Gold."

Rumpelstiltskin wonders which part of her is whispering that he will listen to her. None of the rest of Storybrooke would think to lay out their problems to Mr. Gold.

He should tell Lacey that he doesn't care - and he truly doesn't care to listen about her nights at the bar, surrounded by other men. Their little town is made of gossip, and Mr. Gold has heard all the rumors about Moe French's wayward daughter.

Rumpelstiltskin will make Regina pay for each of them, of course.

But that satisfaction is still months away.

For now, he gives in though he covers that fact by an impatient tap of his cane against the floorboards. "What do you suggest, then?"

Lacey grins - Belle's grin, which almost makes him smile back. "A trade, I suppose."

That surprises him in truth. Belle had nothing to her name, back in the Enchanted Forest. What could she have found, in her travels? "And you have something of value?" he asks, remembering to tag a smirk of disbelief at the end.

"I don't have the money, true," Lacey says, standing straight and flipping her hair over her shoulder. Her blue eyes fix on him and she takes a deep breath before continuing. "But surely I still have something to barter for a bit of... gold."

The way she says the last word makes his skin crawl. And when she points at herself, a little crooked smile on her face, and _winks_ , Rumpelstiltskin wants to raise his cane and smash it against every piece of his collection, until all the treasures of their old world are in shards around him. Then he wants to grab her shoulders and shake her and scream at her (and that worked so well last time, didn't it?). He wants to find Regina and _strangle_ the witch until she releases the curse on his Belle. He wants to say yes, oh so badly, and he hates himself the most at that realization.

"I don't think so, dearie," he hisses.

He expects her to look relieved, but there's only a bit of bemusement in her expression as she shrugs. "Whatever. It was just an idea. I can still be of help around here." Lacey looks around the store, wrinkling her nose a little. "Place is filthy."

Rumpelstiltskin shakes his head, trying to understand her meaning.

(He cannot be understanding it right. He _cannot_.)

"I don't imagine Ashley Boyd has set foot back in here, has she?" she continues, paying no mind to his hesitance. "And it shows. You need someone to help out here, Gold. Someone who can climb a ladder and dust the high shelves." And she gives his right leg an unflinching look, just like Belle had never flinched from his inhuman appearance. "What do you say?"

He shakes his head again, this time in sheer shock.

"I can work a vacuum, you know!" Lacey says, sounding affronted that he's not jumping at her offer of her housekeeping skills. Does she not know what everyone else says about her?

His laughter makes her blink in confusion.

"I'm serious!"

"Oh, I bet you are," he manages. "And no doubt you'll also scare the dust out of every nook and corner!"

And then she'll insist on opening the windows and letting some sunlight in!

The joke is on him, of course. Everyone else is slowly feeling their way along the path they left off in their old world. Their former loves, their former quests... all the things they don't remember but _feel_ must be done. Lacey should be steering out of his way as much as possible in their tiny town!

But instead the girl peeks through his shop window for weeks and, when she finally comes in, tries to make a deal with him - _this_ deal, as if they haven't already broken it. Except... no one breaks a deal with the Dark One, do they? Belle walked away, and Rumpelstiltskin watched her go, but that wasn't _forever_ , was it?

If this is the curse translating the townsfolk's obligations to Rumpelstiltskin into this world, like it did with the contract for Cinderella's baby and the heavy loans a good portion of the town owes Mr. Gold...

But then he'd have had Lacey as a shop assistant from the start, wouldn't he?

There must be a part of Belle already awake in this girl, because she's managed to baffle him while seeming completely unaware of the fact.

Perhaps... perhaps she'd meant to come back? Rumpelstiltskin considers the option carefully, and finds it likely enough. The Enchanted Forest could be a dangerous place for a woman on her own. Ever since he discovered she never returned to Sir Maurice, Rumpelstiltskin has figured that Belle found the adventure she'd dreamed of; but adventures are seldom safe. Could she... could she have run into some trouble? Into enough of it that it'd drive her back to seek his protection?

Rumpelstiltskin both curses his luck and thanks all the gods that she never made it back to the Dark Castle. Even if her only interest had been to take shelter under his power... Even if she hadn't loved him anymore... ('If'? Was there any other option?) ... If he'd had Belle back with him... Oh, he'd still have pulled the strings to bring the curse along, not even true love can trump his love for his son, but how could he have explained it to her?

Damned if he did, damned if he didn't. He would have lost her all over again.

And he is so tired of losing those he loves!

"I'm not a kind master, girl," Rumpelstiltskin tell her this truth, not adding that she has known it already. "What makes you think I'll be nice to someone underfoot? There is a reason I haven't hired a replacement for Miss Boyd, after all."

Lacey vacillates a little, then holds her chin up. The stubborn expression is familiar, and despite the tousled hairdo and the revealing clothes, Rumpelstiltskin can almost believe he's talking to Belle. "You need someone to keep some order in here, Gold. I don't see anyone else lining up."

"And you'd do it for a necklace?"

When she gives the piece of jewelry a longing look and nods, Rumpelstiltskin must hold himself from offering it to her in exchange of never coming back and tempting him this way.

Because he's never been good at denying himself.

Regina can't know that her old teacher is awake in this world, and bringing his true love into Mr. Gold's life will alert her. But so did rigging the Sheriff election, and... and Mr. Gold wouldn't turn down cheap labor, would he? "Three months, three times a week," he hears himself dictate the details of this new deal, well aware that it won't take Emma that long to break the curse. But he's willing to allow Belle to short-change him, once she wakes up. "You'll come before opening time, say seven o'clock." He expects her to protest, for that schedule will cut into her long nights at the Rabbit Hole, but Lacey only grimaces for a second before she nods. "Do what you must in here. If I'm satisfied, you'll get that necklace you're so enamored of."

"And you won't sell it in the meanwhile?" she asks shrewdly. "Not even if you get a better offer?"

Rumpelstiltskin never breaks a deal - and neither did Mr. Gold, truth be told - but they both have the reputation to twist the wording of a contract into their own benefit. Even so, few people in either world hammered down the details this boldly.

"And you won't suddenly decide to raise the price, will you? I won't be working here forever, Gold."

He chuckles at that. "Certainly not, Miss French."

Her blue eyes meet his, wary of his sudden good humor. But she still asks, "When do I start?"

"Tomorrow," he says before he can consider it. At her look of surprise, he adds, "You did mention that the place was filthy."

After a moment, Lacey nods again. "The sooner I start, the sooner it'll end, I guess. You have a deal, Mr. Gold," and she ends that sentence by extending a hand toward him.

A handshake, of course. To seal their deal.

Rumpelstiltskin stares at her hand, but what his mind's eye sees is a replay of the last time he touched her.

(He'd tossed her into the dungeon, still growling in fury. He'd been willing to let her go, just a few hours before, and now he was seething because she'd forced him to lock her up again!)

Now his right hand grips the handle of his cane, and his left hand wraps around it to cover the white knuckles. "I trust you can see yourself out, Miss French."

Her hand hovers in the air for a few seconds, her expression hesitant. As if she hadn't believed the town monster could be as horrid as everyone said. Finally she curls her fingers into a fist and scowls. "Fine. If this is how you want it, then by all means let's start as we mean to go on," she says, giving him a last glare before turning on her heel. "See you tomorrow, Gold."

 _It's not about what I want,_ Rumpelstiltskin thinks as Lacey reaches for the doorknob and turns it open. _It never was._

But he doesn't try to stop her.

How can he explain to Lacey that the last time he saw her real self, she couldn't walk away from him fast enough? Even if Belle did mean to return to the Dark Castle, he can't know why, can he? He suspects, but suspicions about Belle have made him the fool already. (How Regina must have laughed, that he'd accused his maid of conspiring with the Evil Queen! )

He says nothing, but he still forces himself to watch as Lacey crosses the threshold onto the street and slams the door behind her.

The bell above his door is startled into announcing her departure.

Rumpelstiltskin blinks at the sound, telling himself he's watched his True Love leave twice already - once with his blessing, once cursing his stubborn ways - and this is _Lacey_ , so it doesn't really count.

But this time he is sure of her return come morning.

This may be the Land Without Magic but maybe... at least for the next few weeks... perhaps he can pretend that the third time will still be the charm?

 

The End  
21/12/14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Christmas is here!](http://kitteninthedark.livejournal.com/234528.html)


	2. call it the edge of sanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lacey's pov. 
> 
> Or, what can happen when True Love is under the Dark Curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. This went _nowhere_ it was supposed to. I'll try again tomorrow.

Over the years she'd frequented the Rabbit Hole, Lacey had run into Gold several times. Nothing special there; so did every person who came by the bar on a Friday night. Strange arrangement, to collect rent every week, but Tyler wasn't telling the reason behind it (yes, she had asked; Lacey _always_ asked when she was curious enough).

Sometimes she crossed Gold on her way in, and sometimes they'd bump into each other on the street outside if it was a slow night and she felt like leaving earlier than her usual. They'd exchange nods and perhaps a grunt of recognition, and gave it no thought beyond that moment.

But more often they coincided inside the bar. Lacey would be gathering her audience by the pool tables, measuring which of the boys would step up to the challenge that night, and then she would hear the hum of conversation dip and drop, and when she turned, sure enough, Gold would have arrived. He never stayed for long, just long enough to catch glimpses of him without being too obvious.

Unlike most of her acquaintances (the others held some personal grudge against the pawnshop owner), Lacey didn't dislike Gold. She _envied_ him. The easy confidence, the smug tilt of his head as he stood alone among those who hated him.

She wanted to know how he managed to ignore everyone's opinion and just kept walking on.

She wanted to copy that attitude and feel that she _meant_ it, and it wasn't only a thin mask.

She wanted to drag him down to her level, mud him up a little. See if he wasn't wearing a mask as well.

During an opponent's turn, Lacey would sometimes take her attention off the game, and see Gold at the bar, waiting for Tyler to collect the money. He would be the only one standing straight, hands in front joined over the handle of his cane. The picture of self-possession while the Rabbit Hole patrons slouched in their stools or reclined against the closest available surface. Lacey always noted the shot of the best whiskey in the house sitting in front of him; usually forgotten, and laughed to herself at Tyler's painfully obvious - and useless - attempt to soothe the beast. Then she would get the strangest itch - and she cursed her curious nature for it - and wondered whether anyone would ever give Gold a good shove and shift him from his collected, self-controlled ways.

She wanted to see him lose those perfect manners.

She wanted to dare him to a drinking contest and laugh when she drank him under the table. She wanted to bask while everyone present congratulated her.

She wanted to see him _lose_.

The most powerful business man in town, owing her a forfeit.

For someone who had never exchanged a word with the man, they were high hopes indeed.

But Gold never gave her an opening. He came, he collected the rent, and he left again, his slow pace marked by the crowd parting well ahead of him. For all that she felt his attention settle on her from time to time, especially when she shouted out her triumph on the green felt, it was only so he'd give a once-over and dismiss her in the next breath.

Every time it happened, it made Lacey want to walk over and force him to acknowledge her. She never did, though. It was clear that Gold wanted nothing from the Rabbit Hole except his money, and it took more bravery than what Lacey possessed to walk up to him and make any demands.

Until the night he looked at her and didn't look away.

She wasn't sure what had changed. She'd looked up, just as always, and found him in his customary spot. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. Until she realized he'd been staring at her already.

It was the first time Lacey had felt tempted to fidget in discomfort under a man's scrutiny - and she knew all about the looks in a man's eyes: the appreciation, the smugness, the leers, the _wanting_. Gold managed to hit all of those during the heartbeats their gazes locked, and yet there was something else... It had been so frustrating, to know that she had the name of the feeling on the tip of her tongue, and yet couldn't make it out.

She had been about to call him on it. On _whatever_ that was. But he had broken contact, barked for Tyler to be quicker, and shoved his money into his pocket without ceremony before turning toward the door. It was as if she had imagined everything. He became the calm, solid Mr. Gold again, making his slow way back to the parking lot without once glancing her way.

That was the last time Lacey saw Gold on a Friday night.

She had questioned Tyler, but he'd remained tight-lipped; nobody else knew or cared why Gold's schedule had changed. And then everybody was whispering about him, but the gossip didn't answer Lacey's questions. It was just some business deal gone south. His arrangement with Ashley Boyd became a public matter, and the mix of teenage pregnancy, deals with the devil, and a car chase at the city limits, became the juiciest piece of news in Storybrooke. Lacey didn't get the fuss, but she was in the minority. Everybody took sides on whether Ashley's baby was better off with her mother or with the adoptive parents - though all agreed that Gold's role was distasteful at best. 

Really. He was the one lawyer in town, who else would draft and sign an adoption agreement? 

And still, despite public censure, Gold acted as if it didn't affect him.

Lacey's feelings were a contradiction between wishing it had brought him down a peg, at least, and silently cheering him on.

Not that she voiced her opinion out loud. It wasn't worth it alienating people over Gold. People liked to hate him, and who was Lacey to rain on their parade? _She_ liked a smooth sailing through life, her problems no trickier than choosing the right bait to convince the other patrons at the Rabbit Hole to bet against her at the pool table. There was no need to rock the boat, and Lacey wasn't changing that

So Gold truly had no one on his corner. Not her problem. She could relate, sure, but what would she do with that, go and tell him her sorry tale?

He'd burst into laughter before he sent her away.

The whole town laughed behind her back already; she wouldn't allow him to join their ranks. Better to be ignored, yes. And better yet to daydream that she saw him beaten, and beaten by her hand and hers alone. She didn't need public applause; not really. It could stay between the two of them, and she would be content. 

Lacey didn't even care how such ambitions would never come to pass, or really held onto any hope that they might; but sometimes when she went to bed, the last image in her head was of Gold on his knees, asking for... for something. Who cared about the details?

It wasn't like she wished him ill. She didn't even dislike him, not like everyone else seemed to. She just wanted... she wanted... vindication? Let anyone dare insult her, once she had proven she could triumph over the man they all feared.

A beautiful dream, wasn't it? It certainly helped trudge through reality from one day to another.

But how was she supposed to feed that dream if she never saw Gold anymore?

The answer, of course, had been to make a small change in her routine when she ran errands on Main Street. A road crossed a few blocks sooner than what was custom, and Lacey found herself wandering past the pawnshop... and pausing to peer into its exposition window. How had she never noticed the curiosities shown there? The flaw in the plan became obvious at once: who would believe that she could afford any of these items? Not Gold; he was no fool. He probably knew her finances better than Lacey herself did.

But her curiosity proved stronger.

Eventually she had convinced herself to come inside the shop. She couldn't be the only person who came to gawk at the prettier wares, could she? 

And Gold hadn't seemed to mind. He wouldn't even bother to come out of the back room, most times.

In retrospective, that might have been because he was too busy planning to kill the Mayor... or that new deputy... or both; though Lacey was inclined to believe the first option. She would have loved to know what would have pushed him into such action, but self-preservation kicked in. Instead she watched, and she waited, and still she saw Gold hold his head high and continue his business as if nothing had happened.

If that was a mask, Lacey wanted to steal it away and try it herself.

Even so, Lacey might have kept her distance after the Sheriff election, if it hadn't coincided with her finding the most lovely little chain she'd ever seen.

Lacey wasn't much for fancy jewels, which worked for her since the dim atmosphere of the Rabbit Hole was better suited for the loud statements of heavy earrings and jingly bracelets (nobody took a pool player seriously when she jingled with every movement, which, again, worked for her just fine). But that golden chain in Gold's pawnshop, with its delicate pearl pendant hanging from it... Lacey wanted it almost as much as she wanted to catch Gold in a weak moment.

When he offered to trade the chain for months of labor, Lacey took the deal and let the bastard believe it was in his favor. It wasn't what she'd intended, but she could keep close now, and maybe that would finally scratch the itch that always awakened when he was around.

Call it curiosity.

Call it fixation.

It was damn annoying, and Lacey was ready to get rid of it once and for all.

 

The End  
25/03/15


End file.
